Protect this Child of Mine
by TexasAlex123
Summary: Fem!Will is forced to visit the incarcerated Doctor Hannibal Lecter in order to catch a murderous serial killer in Baltimore. Little does Doctor Lecter know waiting at home for Will is their son!
1. Chapter 1

It was so cold in the corridors. Will instinctively shivered and tugged her coat tighter around herself. The walls were dank and cold in the Baltimore hospital for the Criminally Insane and she wryly though that perhaps it was done as a deterrent to would be psychos. Her high heels clattered on the stone floor and she nervously peered into the cells she passed trying to get a feel for the place. Will knew it probably wasn't a good idea to make eye contact with the prisoners but her empathy seemed to override her common sense and forced her to do it. She inhaled and took a deep breath trying to remember why she was here in the first place.

_Last Week_

"_I am done with the FBI Jack, I handed in my resignation eight years ago ever since-"Will suddenly stopped shuddered, vivid and horrific memories flooding her brain._

_Jack Crawford looked at her with a mixture of pity and determination before ploughing on as he had before. "You are the only one that can get to Lecter and you know it Will. Don't you owe it to the victims and their families to find the killer by any means possible?"_

"_That's not fair Jack," she burst her, pain marring her pretty features. "I have myself and my son to think of now. I don't need a Lecter tornado entering my life again. Once was bad enough!"_

"_Please," Jack said with the right amount of desperation in his voice. "I know you can't sit back and let people die, you are too good for that."_

_Will whispered a silent apology to her son, asking for forgiveness for what she was about to do. She didn't want to sell her soul to the Devil but she had no choice if people's lives were at risk. She nodded her head abruptly praying for any deity that might be listening to have mercy on her soul._

Will snapped out of her train of thoughts and violently shook her head. It was no use backing out now. She mused that perhaps if she had been a stronger or more selfish person she could have turned Jack Crawford down and continued to live in the Deep South with her son and dogs. Feeling guilt and self-pity welling up inside her, she hurried on down the corridor to the one prisoner she wanted to see.

As she turned the corner she steadied herself. It had been so long and this visit had not even started yet but had already begun to pray on her mind. After taking another calming breath she straightened her shoulders and tried to act like she possessed some modicum of courage. She positioned herself in front of the plexiglass and stared into her son's eyes.

"Hello Will," the familiar voice said, drifting through the breathing holes.

"Hello Doctor Lecter," she whispered back, heart beating rapidly.


	2. Chapter 2

Doctor Lecter stood up from his cot and moved closer to the bed. His maroon eyes gleaming in the dim lighting.

"So how are you Will," he asked his tone silky smooth. Will was reminded of a Venus flytrap trying to entice its prey in before devouring it. On second thought, it was almost exactly like the current situation she was in.

"Fine," she said shortly, feeling rather awkward standing up.

As if reading her mind Doctor Lecter said "I believe the orderly will be along with a chair shortly."

Will attempted what she hoped was a gracious nod before beginning to talk. "I have with me a questionnaire from the BAU-"

"No, no, no," Doctor Lecter interrupted, shaking his head in mock horror. "Do you honestly think that you can dissect me with a piece of paper?"

"It's rude to interrupt Doctor," Will retorted sharply, pleased with her comeback.

Doctor Lecter held his hands out in mock apology before moving back onto his cot. Will took the brief opportunity to study him quickly. She almost wanted to laugh because it was so odd to see Doctor Lecter not wearing a suit. She thought mockingly that orange really wasn't his colour and he should stick to his once commonplace blues. Her eyes travelled across his hands and face and she suppressed a catch in her throat, don't think of Alistair now, no matter how similar they are she forced herself to think. Inhaling once more she began to talk again.

"According to Jack Crawford you have information on the Philadelphia Werewolf and as I am sure you have already deduced, I have been sent to retrieve it."

Doctor Lecter leaned slightly forward on his cot before replying. "It is induced my dear Will, not deduced. Poor Arthur Conan Doyle made a bit of a mix-up between the two and the mistake is rarely corrected." He finished contemptuously, amusement or whatever people like him feel dancing in his eyes.

Will desperately tried to compose herself. She had always felt uncomfortable in his presence, even before-well this. She always likened herself and him to the Prince and the Pauper and even in captivity Doctor Lecter seemed unlikely to shed his projection of grandeur.

"I would remind you people's lives are at stake, but I hardly think that has ever been a concern of yours." Will said harshly.

"Of course it has," Doctor Lecter replied in an almost kind tone "how are you really Will?"

Half of Will wanted to collapse and burst into tears like she had done back in the old days. The other, perhaps stronger half forced her to get a grip of herself. If not for her own sake then she might as well do it for her son, Alistair.

"I am leaving," she announced, jamming the questionnaire through the meal tray. "Either do it or don't, I really don't care anymore."

A look of what could be called surprise flitted across Doctor Lecter's face. "You don't have to go," he said. "I rarely receive intelligent company now, just PhD candidates." He smiled inwardly at his little joke.

"Goodbye Doctor Lecter," Will said walking back down the corridor without a second glance. She found it hard to explain but ever since Doctor Lecter had been incarcerated she found it easier to take control of a situation. She supposed he did have a lot of influence over her at the time and without it she was forced to stand on her own two feet for the first time. The other reason was still rather hard to contemplate.

She blinked and found herself standing in the bright sunlight of the parking lot. It was a welcome change from the darkness inside the asylum. As she began to move to her car her phone began to issue a text alert. Will pulled it out of her handbag and looked at it.

_Dear Mummy,_

_I love you loads and I hope your job is going okay._

_Lots of Love_

_Alistair._

_PS. Mrs Sutherland is taking really good care of me and I am watching lots of movies and eating ice-cream._

Will smiled affectionately for a minute before pressing her lips against the mobile's screen. "It's all for you Alistair," she whispered, inadvertently touching the scar on her side.


	3. Chapter 3

Miles away in New Orleans, Alistair Graham stared at the window at the street below. The vast amount of people from all walks of like traveling by had a mesmerising effect on the eight year old boy. His maroon eyes lit up as people spun and danced wearing brightly coloured costumes in celebration of Mardi Gras.

"It's so pretty isn't it?" Mrs Sutherland said as she bustled in carrying laundry. She was a small, stout woman with a cheery smile and an iron-grey bun.

Alistair nodded his head vigorously and continued to gaze dreamily outside. Hoping that one day he too could join the parade. Mrs Sutherland smiled fondly at the boy before gesturing to the TV. "Look Alistair there's your mother!" she said in surprise.

Alistair tore himself away from the window and threw himself down in front of the TV excitedly. The caption on the news channel read **Philadelphia Werewolf strikes again** in bold letters at the bottom of the screen. Behind the attractive blonde presenter Alistair noticed his mother standing and talking seriously to a tall man in a coat and hat.

"What do you think she is talking about Mrs Sutherland?" Alistair asked, his eyebrows knitted together in consternation.

"I don't know dearie," Mrs Sutherland replied before glancing at the caption again. "Perhaps we best turn this off and watch some cartoons. I think Scooby-Doo is on now."

Alistair grudgingly agreed, not entirely thrilled at missing his mother on the TV. He decided that when he was grown up he would be famous and everyone would see him on TV all the time, especially his mother and Mrs Sutherland.

As the ending credits of Scooby-Doo came on, Alistair rolled off the couch feeling energetic and bored, never a good combination in eight year old boys. He wandered around the apartment looking for entertainment until he came to his mother's bedroom. His birthday was less than a month away and he was curious to see what he was getting. He stealthily crept inside the darkened bedroom; ears pricked in case Mrs Sutherland caught him and reported him back to his mother. Alistair then yanked open the wardrobe doors and began to root through it looking for presents. After several minutes of unproductive searching, he sat down on the floor of the wardrobe and ran his fingers through his ash-blonde hair. He attempted to exit the wardrobe, disappointed he could find no evidence of presents or a portal to Narnia, when he tripped over a small cardboard box. Curious once again, he picked up the box and took it into his room, all the while loudly announcing to Mrs Sutherland he was going to take a bath. As soon as he closed his bedroom door he looked inside.

The box was filled with knick-knacks and memorabilia. There were sketches on thick, expensive drawing paper with the signature Hannibal Lecter MD written in a corner. Some of them were landscapes, others were of his mother's boat and most surprising of all there was one of his mother looking lovely dressed in a trench coat and boots. There was also clipping from newspaper articles with captions that screamed **Hannibal the Cannibal! **And **Renowned Baltimore Psychiatrist is Chesapeake Ripper! **The man in the pictures underneath appeared to be smirking as he was shoved into a police cruiser and in his mug shot he was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. The rest of the clippings were on his mother much to his surprise. The headlines screamed **FBI Agent injured by Ripper **and **Hannibal the Cannibal stabs pregnant FBI Agent to evade arrest**.

Alistair shakily put those articles down and stares at the photographs of the Chesapeake Ripper. He seemed very familiar but Alistair couldn't remember where he had seen him before. Pausing to think, Alistair inadvertently glanced up and caught his reflection in his mother's mirror, that's when it hit him, the Chesapeake Ripper looked him!


	4. Chapter 4

_Eight Years Earlier…._

"_You lied to me!" Will shouted as she burst into Hannibal's office._

_He responded calmly to her anger, merely raising his head in brief acknowledgement of her presence before asking "about what?"_

_Will shakily pointed a finger at him before replying in a broken whisper "you are the Chesapeake Ripper, you killed all those people, you're insane, a monster."_

_Hannibal put down the file he was carrying and walked over to her slowly. "I am so sorry Will to have to do this, you really are quite beautiful and it is such a shame to ruin art."_

_Before Will could answer she felt a sharp pain radiate across her abdomen. She glanced down and saw a linoleum knife jutting out of her side. Her legs gave way and she began to fall to the floor, only to be caught be Hannibal and gently lowered to the ground._

"_Just give in to the numbness," he murmured soothingly, "I don't want you to feel any pain, you're something that I love."_

_Will could feel tears pricking in her eyes as he said this; her sadness wasn't for herself however it was for the foetus inside of her. Killed by its own father and her mother's stupidity, why on earth would she think that he would simply spare her and let her turn him over to the police? Hannibal was a sociopath and couldn't feel emotions such as love; Will only wished it was the same for her. Though her strength was leaving her, Will knew what she had to do. She waited until he had turned back to his desk leaving her to die before pulling her gun out of the holster. "Hannibal," she said and when he turned around she fired two shots into his torso and watched him fall over._

_As Will lay her head down she heard the police sirens wail in the distance. Glad she had phoned Jack Crawford before visiting Hannibal; she whispered a prayer for her baby and succumbed to the darkness._

Will blinked away the memory and stumbled out of the grotty cubicle and over to the moderately clean sink. She pulled her glasses off and splashed water all over her face, feeling it drip down the front of her shirt. Will shoved her glasses back on before walking back out into the diner and seating herself at the table she was sharing with Jack Crawford. "Are you okay?" he asked, noticing her ashen face.

"Yes," she mumbled remembering the last time he had said that to her.

_Eight Years Earlier_

"_Did you know you were pregnant Will?" Jack demanded, resting his hands on the edge of her hospital bed. He looked pretty mad._

"_Yes," Will admitted, for once in her life looking defiantly at him._

_Jack opened his mouth to castigate her some more but seeing her expression decided to switch to a different topic. "That baby is real lucky to survive an attack like that, must be destiny or karma." Jack's face brightened in an effort to cheer Will up. "Perhaps you've got the next President in there or something." He said chuckling._

_The thought of Hannibal in the White House made Will want to simultaneously giggle and sob._

"_Can I call the father?" Jack asked kindly, "he should know what's going on."_

"_Please don't," Will said "I'm just fine."_

"_Are you sure?" Jack asked concerned._

"_Since the father of my unborn child tried to kill us both I would really prefer if he didn't come." Will snapped._

_Jack's face paled considerably and he politely but quickly excused himself from the room. Will sighed and rested her head against the pillow. "You've got a lot of prejudice to overcome kiddo," she whispered, stroking her stomach as her eyes filled up with tears._


	5. Chapter 5

Hannibal lay on his cot, hands steepled under his chin thinking. 'How nice it was to see Will again,' he thought, smiling like the Cheshire Cat that got the cream. He paused, thinking for a moment before deciding how he was going to entertain himself for the remainder of the afternoon.

He called out for Barney and asked him to bring the telephone so he could call his attorney. After Hannibal put a straitjacket on and attached his facial restraints Barney brought the telephone down and placed it on the floor of the cell. "Call me when you're done Doctor Lecter," Barney said before leaving, carefully closing the door and locking it behind him.

Will's current location gave Hannibal some pause for thought before dialling. He highly doubted she lived in Wolf Trap, Virginia anymore. Perhaps she had moved back to the city of her birth, New Orleans. He called the directory and asked the chirpy operator to connect him with Wilhelmina Graham. Not surprisingly such an old-fashioned name was not common in New Orleans and he was informed there was only one person with that name listed before being connected.

The phone was answered by a boy to Hannibal's surprise. "Hello," he said with a quavering tone common in children with little experience answering a phone.

"Who is speaking please?" Hannibal asked, curious that a child lived in Will's home. He then grinned, he wondered if Will had married and had children, if so it would make things very interesting.

"I'm Alistair Graham," the boy answered back.

So not married, Hannibal thought. It would be unusual for a child to take his married mother's maiden name unless he was the child of a single mother.

"Is your mother there," he asked.

"No, I can tell her you called though, what's your name mister?"

Polite too Hannibal mused, I will have to compliment Will next time I see her. Her son is not a waste of sentient flesh.

"I will reach her some other way," Hannibal said about to put down the phone.

"Want to hear a joke mister, what's a donkey with three legs called?" asked the child giggling.

"What?" Hannibal asked somewhat exasperated.

"A wonkey," the child laughed.

"How old are you?" Hannibal queried, somewhat convinced that the child must be slow for his age.

"I'm eight, why?" was the answer.

Hannibal inhaled sharply, realisation coursing through his brain. "Where's your father?" he barked.

"I don't have one," the boy replied sounding confused.

Hannibal put down the phone and contemplated the new revelation. He had a son, an heir. The house of Lecter had a new Count. Hannibal smiled once more, this changes things he mused, and Will is going to be very surprised.


	6. Chapter 6

Will sat in her hotel room staring at crime scene photographs. There were nicer ways of spending a Saturday she mused to herself as she got up to get herself a drink of water. The only good thing about being back at the FBI was the fact that Jack Crawford felt somewhat guilty for bringing her back so he put her up in a rather posh, childless hotel. She did love Alistair very much, it was just that he was sort of loud and destructive, no matter how well meaning his actions were intended to be.

That train of thought led Will to pause for a minute. She had just admitted to herself that Alistair was destructive, so had Hanni- his father. Could she consider the possibility that Alistair may become the next Chesapeake Ripper or something infinitely worse? He did greatly resemble his father and some mannerisms he possessed did belong to him not her. Will remembered back to her childhood and digressed that she and Alistair were quite different. He was less afraid and more outgoing then she was, more willing to face new challenges and explore the unknown.

She had no idea what Hannibal had been like as a child. Will did not know if any of the Lecter family were still alive and if they were, she was sorely tempted to contact them and ask about the child Hannibal Lecter. Where had his parents or guardians gone wrong and how had they allowed him to turn into the monster he had become?

Will vaguely remembered Hannibal telling her that the Lecter's were nobility and that he was a count. It made her chuckle slightly that Alistair was too. She had seen her son turn down foie grass in favour of a hamburger at a party once and wouldn't hold out too much hope for him to become a dignified and genteel man any time soon.

Will also wondered how Hannibal would react to having a son. She couldn't help but think it would be infinitely different if Alistair was a girl. Fathers and daughters shared a special but ultimately two-dimensional love. Fathers found it hard identify and understand their daughters especially in later years due to the gender difference which could ultimately sever their bond. Fathers also felt protective of their daughters and would defend them to death.

Fathers viewed their sons differently to their daughters. A boy was an heir, a man's second chance. A father could live through his son and make him into the man he wished he could be. Men lived through their sons and that thought made Will shudder.


	7. Chapter 7

Alistair lay in bed with his face pressed to the pillow. His head was whirling with emotions and he silently sobbed. He was so very confused after discovering his unnerving resemblance to a murderer. His mother told him that his father died before he was born. He didn't like to question her further as it always upset her.

He sat up and rubbed his face wearily. Few people had realized that being born brilliant leads to a lifetime of migraine and general depression and Alistair was no exception. At times like this he wished he was average like his friends were at school, content to play football instead of analyzing the rules and the player's mentalities. Though that wasn't to say Alistair wasn't a child as shown by his attachment to his plastic green dinosaur Fred. It was just harder being different to everybody, especially when he was just a kid.

A creaking in the corridor spooked Alistair and he clutched his duvet anxiously. A prickle shot up his spine and a sense of unease began to spread over him. He didn't know what but something was very wrong. Survival instinct compelled him to crawl under the bed and lie flat on his belly, motionless.

He watched as his bedroom door swung open and a man entered. Alistair noticed he was wearing thick, heavy work shoes. The man walked over to the bed and began to rummage through the sheets, obviously searching for its usual occupant. Alistair pressed his fingers against the wooden floors and tried desperately not to make a sound, in fact he was barely breathing. The man then turned and began to walk away which caused Alistair to audibly sigh. This promptly turned into a scream as the man reached under the bed and dragged him out.

Alistair continued to scream and kick at his assailant. The man then made the mistake of putting his fingers near Alistair's mouth which caused him to latch on and bite down with all his might. The man howled and shook Alistair roughly before grasping him by the scruff of his neck. "Little cannibal whelp," he shouted as he pulled him down the stairs into a waiting car. Alistair screamed until his throat was raw but unfortunately no-one came to his aid.

The kidnapper tossed him into the backseat of the car before driving the car away. He put his foot on the accelerator and nearly went through a red light. Alistair wept in the backseat, terrified beyond belief. He had never wanted his mother so badly. All he could hope for was that she would come and get him soon.


	8. Chapter 8

Hannibal had been expecting Will's reappearance but not in the manner that it had actually occurred. He heard raised voices but merely thought that Chilton had finally snapped and gone on some sort of a rampage. If that had been so, Hannibal would have been exceedingly grateful if he could open the door to his cage. What Hannibal didn't expect to see was an enraged Will hurtling down the corridor, only stopping at his cell.

"You!" she screamed, her cheeks flushed and her hair on end. Hannibal was of the opinion that rage made women ugly, but Will had changed his opinion, she looked just the same except mad.

"Now, now Will," Hannibal said soothingly in his therapeutic voice "what's the matter?"

"Don't play dumb with me," she shrieked "you've hired someone to take Alistair, you found out about him and now you're going to use him as some pawn for your sick, twisted games!"

There were few times in Hannibal's life where he had been seriously dumbstruck, the most memorable had been when his parents informed him that he was going to be an older brother. This was one of those times.

"I have nothing to do with this Will," he said evenly, despite his mind whirring frantically.

"Well it's either you or the Philadelphia Werewolf, and he's staying pretty quite on the subject matter." Will snapped, fingers running through her chestnut hair at breakneck speed.

"Were you ever going to tell me I had fathered a son?" Hannibal asked, wanting to change the topic of conversation momentarily.

Will looked at me disbelievingly before replying "of course not, how the hell was I supposed to sit him down and tell him that his father was a sadistic cannibalistic serial killer?"

Hannibal acknowledged this was a fair point. "I would like to have known Will, he is the only family I have left."

"We don't always get what we want Hannibal," she said reprovingly, noticing only afterwards that she had addressed him by his first name.

"What's he like?" Hannibal asked curiously "I mean Alistair."

Will blinked looking startled, she hadn't expected Hannibal to show any level of interest in his offspring.

"He's very clever," she began cautiously "he loves football and drawing and T.V. He's such a good boy and wouldn't hurt a fly, in fact he loves animals. He's so sweet and and…"  
Will felt tears slide down her cheeks. "I have to find him," she wept "if anything happens to him I'll just die."

Something flickered in Hannibal's eyes. If it had been anyone else Will would have said it was pity or sorrow, but it wasn't. This was Hannibal the Cannibal, a remorseless sociopath.

"I am so sorry Will," he said plainly, seeming at loss of clever words or double meanings at once.

"No you're not," she whispered, wiping her tears away "you don't care you never did."

Hannibal stood up from his cot and walked to the very front of the glass, only inches from Will was standing.

"Slid your fingers through the hole," he said, his eyes focusing on hers intently.

Will isn't sure why but she slides the fingers belonging to her left hand through the holes. She thinks that if he does decide to bite them off she can still use her right hand for writing. But he doesn't, instead he very carefully and tenderly kisses the tip of each one.

"I'll find him for you," he tells her gently "The house of Lecter needs an heir."

Will smiles sadly "how, you're in a cage?"


	9. Chapter 9

Alistair stirred, his eyes adjusting to the dim lighting of the cell-like room he was in. It was handcuffed to a rickety cot covered with stained sheets. The dingy room's other furniture was a wooded bookshelf filled with books and toys that were much too young for his eight years.

The door creaked open and Alistair shivered in fear. His teachers had told him all about bad men who take children and did bad things to him. These thoughts were hardly comforting Alistair mused especially in a situation like this.

The man who had taken him entered and peered at him as one might look at a caged animal in a zoo. "So you're Hannibal the Cannibal's kid," he drawled, displaying a very prominent Louisiana accent. "Sure as hell look like him, wonder if you act like him?"

"Who's Hannibal the Cannibal," Alistair piped up bravely, "a cartoon character?"

His kidnapper let put a quick bark of laughter, reminiscent of a dog and moved closer to the bed. "You don't seem like a bad kid, here's what I'll do, I'll let you out so you can play with the toys I got you. And then if the FBI is willing to stop investigating me I'll give you back to your mother."

Alistair squinted closely at the man and noticed the man's eyebrow twitching slightly. Alistair had grown pretty good at analysing people and was able to spot a lie signal when he saw one. He shuddered in fear, he had to get away and go home. He was sure his mother was looking for him and he didn't want to upset her. He knew what he had to do.

The man untied Alistair and pulled him off the bed. Alistair straightened up and before his kidnapper could react he kicked him hard in the shin and groin. The man gasped and Alistair bit down hard on the man's outstretched hand drawing blood. Finally to be sure Alistair grabbed one of the books off the shelf and whacked him over the head with it, knocking him unconscious. He then ran out of the room locking the door behind him, leaving the man inside.

He hurried through the house, noticing how unkempt and dirty it seemed. The walls were also covered in newspaper articles emblazoned with the words WEREWOLF KILLER!

Alistair reached the front door and pushed it open and entered outside. The bright sunlight and fresh air was a relief compared to the darkness and stank air inside the house. He inhaled deeply and sprinted off, cursing the asthma that was tightening his chest. It sometimes felt like his lungs were being tied together. He walked down a street and tried to mingle with people. A sense of terror hit him when he realised he was hopelessly lost!


	10. Chapter 10

Alistair wandered down the streets, peering in windows and looking for something familiar. He paused at a window stacked with TV's that were flashing and blaring with the latest news.  
The screens read.

HANNIBAL THE CANNIBAL HAS ESCAPED!

CHESAPEAKE RIPPER KILLS WARDEN DR CHILTON!

IS WILEHMINA GRAHAM IN DANGER?

MASON VERGER OFFERING $1 MILLION DOLLAR AWARD FOR LECTER RECAPTURE

Alistair shivered; he had seen those names before and was suddenly scared for his mother. He began to jog down the street rubbing his arms, chilled from the cold wind blowing through the buildings. He curled up on a bus station hugging his knees to his chest in an effort to keep warm.

He awoke with a start as he felt a large hand clap him on the back.

"Is this the Cannibal's kid?" a gruff voice asked from behind him.

Alistair's head was jerked around and grasped firmly between two meaty hands. A bright light was shone in his eyes making him squint and blink furiously.

"Well he's got the eyes." The other man said. "Cool they turn red when you shine a light on them. I wonder if that'll freak Mr Verger out?"

"Leave me alone," hissed Alistair as he tried to break free.

The two men laughed simultaneously. It sounded like a pack of wolves howling at the full moon.

"Mr Verger is going to use you as bait for your dad." The taller one said.

"How do you know that you've got the right boy?" Alistair asked curiously.

"Well you look like a young Hannibal Lecter." The man replied. "I don't know who your mother thought she was fooling, everyone at the FBI knew! Especially Jack Crawford!"

With that the man reached out and seized Alistair by the scruff of the collar, yanking him up from the bench. Before Alistair could cry for help a handkerchief was stuffed in his mouth, making him gag.

Suddenly the man holding him dropped him and sunk to the floor, clutching his stomach which was covered in red. Another flash of silver glinted in the darkness and the other man joined his colleague on the floor. A tall man with ash blonde hair and maroon eyes stepped into the dim lighting from the nearby street lamp, and removed Alistair's gag gently.

"You killed them," Alistair gasped rubbing his cheeks to relieve the ache.

"Well they were hardly very nice were they?" Hannibal Lecter said mildly, watching his son intently with excitement.

"Who are you?" Alistair said, rather interested in his rescuer.

Hannibal smiled like the Cheshire Cat that got the cream. "I'm your father!" he proclaimed as he carefully picked Alistair up. "Do you want some ice-cream?"


	11. Chapter 11

Will sat in the FBI headquarters staring at reports, desperately trying to make sense of the information in front of her in order to find Alistair. Every minute that he was away from her she felt a deep, ripping agony in the pit of her stomach. To top that off Hannibal had decided to escape from jail, killing Doctor Chilton and several orderlies in the process.

Will leaned back in her chair and pulled her glasses off rubbing her face in exasperation. It was all useless she thought vehemently, I'll never find him. At that very moment Jack Crawford's secretary came in brandishing a letter for Will.

"I don't know who it's from," she apologised, "I just found it on my desk."

Will thanked her and stared at the familiar copperplate writing on the expensive thick envelope. A ball of dread began to choke her. She hastily ripped it open, and read it, her suspicions realised.

_Dear Will,_

_I am certain Jackie-boy has you investigating my escape. How very predictable and desperate. He's never recovered from Bella's death has he? _

_Anyway if you are concerned about our son I will have you know that he is safely by my side. I cannot help but feel aggrieved that you kept him hidden from me and allowed me to miss all his developmental stages in early childhood. In order to rectify this I believe I will allow him to accompany me to Europe. After all a boy needs a father Will and I am prepared to be one._

_I wondered if you ever thought that if I knew of his existence I would have much preferred a girl to remind me of my dearest sister Mischa. I confess that I would have wished for a daughter instead of a son, but I am content in the knowledge that I have at least one heir to carry on my name._

_Hannibal Lecter MD_

_PS. Perhaps I'll introduce him to Lady Murasaki._

Will crumpled the letter and screamed for Jack. Hannibal was not going to keep her son, he relinquished any parenting rights the first time he killed a person.


End file.
